


Too Soon for Wedding Bells

by aBOOKISHfreak



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Romance, If the valg never attacked, Mentioned Lysaedion, Multi, The king of Adarlan is okay too, Throne of Glass, malide - Freeform, rowaelin, slow(ish)burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBOOKISHfreak/pseuds/aBOOKISHfreak
Summary: Aelin Galathynius didn’t expect to be married at 21. She didn’t want to be an accessory for some wealthy lord that would become king. Even though the princess had fought battles and faced armies, nothing scared her as much as her newest situation: an arranged marriage. After Sam, she’s not ready to move on, but will have to play along for the sake of her kingdom, because nothing is more important than her people.Rowan Whitethorn had better things to do than travel across seas for the sake of an alliance. As one of his queen’s best warriors, he should be by her side, protecting his people from danger. But no, he was being shipped to Terrasen like a gift, his only relief being his companions, fellow Fae serving in Maeve’s inner circle. He didn’t want to play baby-sitter to a spoiled, arrogant princess, but would have to deal with it for the sake of his homeland.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 77
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, this is just something I've been working on and am really excited to share. I've always loved AUs, and this is one that I've thought about for a long time before finally writing. I hope you enjoy!

Aelin Galathynius was having a bad day.

Up until noon, it had been fantastic. She’d woken up early, gone for a run in the Oakwald, racing herself in her Fae form, and trained with Aedion and The Bane. She was completely kicking their asses, of course. The only person who ever gave her a challenge was her cousin, but something seemed… off about him today. Aedion wasn’t focusing, letting her take shots that were too easy, his guard was incomplete. She had no idea what could be wrong. She had no idea, that is, until lunch.

While she was walking back to the castle, a servant boy tentatively came up to her. Aelin knew they were all a bit scared of her, with her flames, blades, and all. “The King requests your presence,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes. The Princess smiled kindly at him, to which he seemed to relax at.

“Thank you. I’ll head over there now.”

As she walked, Aelin tried to think of anything she might have done wrong. Could she have accidentally pissed off a lord? Been too forward in a meeting? Insulted the ambassador for Melisande that was here last week? _No_. She had to stop thinking like this. Aelin was confident there was nothing wrong. It was just to check in about the negotiations with Demi-Fae. _Yes. That was it. See? Fine._ _She was fine._

Completely confident, Aelin pushed the door to her uncle’s office open, and stalked in shamelessly. Then paused. Sitting in front of her were, Orlon, Darrow, her parents, Aedion, Lysandra, and Elide. Taking in the fact that several very important people to either Terrasen or Aelin herself were sitting in that room, The Princess concluded that she was wrong to be overconfident.  _ Deathly _ wrong.

“Ah, Aelin, I’m glad you’re here. Now we can start,” Her uncle said, hope filling his eyes. “Please take a seat.”

Looking towards her friends, her bloodsworn, she realized they all knew something she didn’t. Elide was carefully calm, though it looked like she wanted to strangle someone. Lysandra gazed at Aelin with uncertainty, pity covering her emotion. Aedion, frankly, looked pissed. No, this wasn’t good for her, she could tell that.

Schooling her expression into neutrality, Aelin sat down between her cousin and best friend. Ignoring the stares of her friends and family, The Princess focused on Orlon, who began somewhat hesitantly.

“As you know, we’ve had some trouble with Adarlan and Melisande recently, and I would not like to be without allies when winter comes. That would be an excellent opportunity for them to hit us, when we’re weakened. It wouldn’t hurt to have a powerful kingdom on our side, and to strengthen our borders. I’ve arranged an alliance with Queen Maeve of Doranelle.” At this point he looked straight at Aelin, and she assumed he’d been talking to her the whole time.

“What’s the catch?” she asked, anxious to find out what everyone else knew. They all looked at her then, the regret evident on their faces. 

“Aelin…” her mother started. None of them seemed to be able to get the words out.

“Just tell me,” the Princess demanded, her tone firm and unyielding. 

Her uncle sighed. “Aelin… We’ve arranged a marriage between you and one of Maeve’s warriors.”

Her world froze.  _ No _ . This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be married at 21 years old. She had a life, a future, she didn’t want to become someone’s accessory. But none of that mattered when it was too  _ soon.  _ Too soon to move on, too soon to be with someone else, too soon to have to play this game. Too soon after  _ him.  _ The one person she’d ever loved, killed by those monsters in the south. She was burning, a bundle of rage waiting to explode, to turn this place into ashes.

“Aelin.” A voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She couldn’t tell who, wouldn’t think of anything except the undeniable  _ anger _ inside of her. “Aelin,” it called again.

She registered everyone in the room watching her with wide eyes. Looking down, she felt the pain in every inch of her body, signaling that she had shifted into her Fae form. She saw the smoke hissing out from under her hands, the water in the goblet before the King boiling.

Jolting back into her body, Aelin forced herself to calm down, to  _ breathe. _ She had a job to do. Aelin needed to provide for her kingdom, no matter what that entailed. It was her priority, her duty as a princess. She forced the heat back, shoving it  _ down, down, down. _ Slowly, the smoke subsided, the water calmed.

Instead of being angry, instead of shouting, or even reasoning with the King, she calmly asked, “When?”

Her father glanced at Evalin with uncertainty, as if unnerved by her attitude. None of them meeting her eyes, Rhoe said, “The wedding will be in two months.” His voice lowered and he mumbled, “He arrives in two days.”

They all watched her, then, expecting a reaction, an outburst,  _ something.  _ Instead, the Princess took a deep breath, then exhaled, the smoke that escaped her mouth the only indicator of her hidden frustration. “How long have you all known?”

Her parents shared a look. Then, her mother carefully answered, “Your father and I, along with Orlon and Darrow, have known for about a month. We waited to tell you because we didn’t want you to be burdened with the news. Your friends have known for a couple of days.” So that’s what it was. Why Lys and Elide had been more distant recently, why Aedion had treated her so differently, why her parents had seemed so distracted. A bolt of frustration ran through her, and Aelin fought to keep it down.

Aelin ground her teeth. “Did you ever think,” she started, her voice slow and carefully neutral, “that telling me ahead of time would make this…  _ transition _ easier? That it would give me time to process it?” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Aedion reached out to touch her shoulder. “We just thought it would be best to wait. I’m sorry if it didn’t help. We all want the best for you, you know. And for Terrasen. Maybe… maybe it’s time to move on.”

The Princess swallowed thickly, then nodded. No matter how much it hurt to live like this, maybe he was right. It took all of Aelin’s effort not to stand up and storm away, to drown her struggles with training, but she knew this would be best for her people. Her family watched as she tried and failed to smirk.

“Well, who am I marrying? At least if he’s handsome, this won’t be such a disaster.” Her father let out a booming laugh. Lysandra grinned, but the look she sent at Aelin told her that the shifter had caught her mistake. 

Orlon cleared his throat. “Rowan Whitethorn. He’s one of Maeve’s band of warriors, the most powerful full-blooded Fae male alive. He will be arriving with two companions of whom I don’t know. And, yes, from what I’ve heard, he’s very handsome.” Aelin’s smile faltered. 

“He’s one of Maeve’s bloodsworn?” 

Her father glanced at her. “Yes, but she will make the connection passive for now. If she needs him to fight or something, she’ll use the connection.”

Aelin nodded. “I-I need some time to process this,” she murmured.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow,” Rhoe said, standing up from his chair and pulling Evalin with him. As they walked out, Lysandra shot Aelin a look, and she knew her friend was asking if she wanted company. The Princess subtly shook her head, rising and meeting eyes with Aedion. He smiled grimly at her, signaling that he wasn’t very happy with this agreement also. Her cousin always had been overprotective, and he likely still thought she lived the life of a nun, which she certainly didn’t. 

Aelin walked out of the room, heading in the direction of the courtyard. Her mind was carefully blank, she couldn’t think here, had to get somewhere where she was alone. She didn’t see, didn’t answer the servants and courtiers that called after her, noticing her burning expression.

When she reached the exits to the castle, the Princess broke into a sprint, still in her Fae form. She raced into the Oakwald, navigating on memory, having run this path countless times before. She ran with all of her power, channeling her energy into her legs, pushing the fastest she’d gone before. 

The Princess’s mind moved faster than it had. Her thoughts jumbled, the sheer euphoria that came from running like this pushing them away. Aelin went faster still, until her mind had calmed, and was left blank. She vaguely felt the wind whip her hair out of her braid, was glad for the pain that came from thorns and brambles scratching her golden skin, the pain distracting her from reality.

Aelin skidded to a stop when she reached a small clearing overlooking the lake. It’s crystal-blue water shimmered in the morning sun, pines surrounding it. 

Something about this place made her feel calm, made it easier to access her magic. Knowing that she couldn't think of the situation now, Aelin sat on an overhanging rock, wide and strong, looking out onto the water. She crossed her legs and looked down on the lake. Letting her mind fall empty, the Princess let go. And she burned, her flames circling her body, floating over the rock, not burning.

And unbeknownst to the Heir of Fire, small eyes watched her, protecting their Princess.

\--------------------

Rowan Whitethorn was tired of water.

Weeks on a ship would do that to a person. And why was the famed, powerful, immortal Fae warrior suck on a ship? 

Because he was marrying a Princess. To most, that might seem like a good thing. To be King if said Princess took the throne. To be a powerful player in the most prosperous kingdom on Erilea. To marry a Princess known for her beauty and prowess in battle.

But to Rowan, all it did was put him further away from his Queen. She would be safe, of course, and it wasn’t like he particularly cared about her life, but soon he would be in a new place, in a diplomatic situation where he could screw up at any time. And then there was the problem of the Princess.

Most of the world had heard tales of her talent for magic and blades, her ethereal beauty, and the legendary flames she inherited from Mala and Brannon. 

But those stories were accompanied by those of her foul temper, quick, piercing wit, and arrogance. She was known for being intelligent, but not very agreeable, especially with people she didn’t like.

And she certainly wouldn’t like the sound of an arranged marriage. Therefore, she wouldn’t like him.

Rowan himself had only been told about the arrangement a couple of days before he embarked on the journey. In the long weeks they’d been at sea, the Prince had time to think about this situation, about what it entailed for him. 

He didn’t know if he was ready for it.

After Lyria, he hadn’t been in any serious relationships, just flings and one-night stands. Now he would have to be committed to marriage. Rowan would be expected to play nice, to become the perfect Prince, as he was only one in name, now. He would be forced to attend social events, sit in meetings all day, and fit in with the royalty.

Like a bird in a cage.

Rowan was a warrior, his instincts told him to  _ fight. _ Not sit around all day, being spoiled for doing nothing. His hawk wanted to be  _ free. _ If Rowan couldn’t fly when he wanted to, if he was trapped in his Fae body, he knew he would become restless. But he didn’t have time to think about that now.  _ It would all work out,  _ he told himself.

Forcing his mind to think of other things, Rowan suddenly felt a stab of sympathy for the Princess. She was being asked to do this for her country. It must be hard to sacrifice all your dreams at such a young age, to do as her elders told her. This situation was probably not ideal for her, either, but maybe they could come to an agreement. They were definitely not going to be in love, but maybe over time, something would blossom. 

Maybe… this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought?

“Rowan!” A voice shook him out of his thoughts. Probably Fenrys, wanting some foolish object or food. What he didn’t expect was Lorcan to poke his head into Rowan’s cabin and say, “Get your ass up here. You can see the coast.”

He nearly leapt up, rushing up the stairs and onto the bow of the ship, where Fenrys and Lorcan were standing. 

“Took you long enough,” his commander’s gruff voice stated.

“Just thinking.”

But he was right. The lush green coast and prosperous town of Suria lived in the distance, so far that even with his sharp eyesight, Rowan could only see an outline and the smoke drifting up. Once the boat docked, they would travel quickly, alone so they could get there faster with their Fae speed. It would be two days until they arrived at Orynth. Then, they would meet the royal family. He would meet the Princess.

Rowan just hoped it wouldn’t all go to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Come visit me on Tumblr @abookishfreak


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 2! This is leading up to the meeting, the next one will be them actually meeting. I'll try to get the next one up as soon as I can, but comments make me really happy and want to write more. I swear I squeal every time someone comments something! I hope you enjoy!

“Look on the bright side. At least you get a handsome Fae warrior.”

Lysandra’s voice added to the cacophony that had been coming from Aelin’s room, mostly crashing and shouting as they worked out the details of Aelin’s outfit. While her parents had told her to dress nice, Aelin had a different idea. She needed to train this male, to show him that she was going to be the one making decisions. She was going to be Queen one day, as she was predicted to settle. Aelin wasn’t one to take orders from someone, and she needed to teach Whitethorn that early on.

Lysandra had suggested several dresses. They were some of her best, beautiful, yet slightly terrifying. One of her favourites was a deep forest green with silver embroidery and full skirts. Despite it being beautiful and screaming,  _ power,  _ it wasn’t what Aelin was looking for. That one was too  _ princessy,  _ and didn't fill the requirements for what she wanted. It was too childish, and she wanted to have her fiancé trembling in his shoes by the time the meeting was over.

Enlisting the help of Elide, with her politician’s mind, and Lysandra, with her fashion sense, the Princess thought she had come up with the perfect solution. 

She wore a beautiful floor-length black dress. It was made out of some of the finest silk in Terrasen, sleek and shining like polished leather. Other than the almost indecent slit that stretched from the hem to mid-thigh, it would have been fairly modest, the back running high, the neck just below her collarbone, were it not for the strip that ran down, in between her breasts, until nearly her navel. The sleeves went above her elbows, hanging off her shoulders slightly But the thing that made it stand out most were the golden flames at the base of the skirt, snaking up until about her waist, twisting and dancing, glimmering brightly against the sharp black. 

Lysandra had helped her pick out jewelry, all matching the colors of her dress. She wore gold vambraces, shimmering golden heels, and a long, corded belt, dripping down the front of her skirt like water. She’d chosen delicate ruby earrings and a long, laced necklace to match.

Aelin hoped that showing she wasn’t some spoiled brat would help ease the tension, and maybe she could bond with the Fae over that. 

“It won’t do me much good if he's an asshole,” she replied.  _ But, _ she supposed,  _ Lysandra had a point.  _ This would only be as bad as they made it. Maybe she and Whitethorn could even become friends. But, from what she’d heard in the past two days since she’d gotten the news from Aedion, it wasn’t likely. From the stories, she’d implied that he was a cranky old bastard.

Her cousin practically worshiped the male, and wouldn’t stop talking about him. She’d heard so many tales of his exploits with the others that Maeve owned, she thought she might explode if she heard any more instead of actually meeting him. Aelin almost thought he was jealous that it was her who was getting married to him. Maybe, if he wasn’t so obviously in love with Lysandra.

“I’m sure the meeting will be fine, Aelin,” Elide assured her, ever the voice of reason. “You won’t have to wait long to find out, anyway.”  _ Gods. _ Only a couple of hours until Aelin was to meet the male who would be part of her life for eternity. She couldn’t tell if she was excited or nervous. Her life could change for the better or worse, and she had no say in how it would end. The best she could do was play nice and hope he was agreeable.

Word had arrived yesterday that their ship had docked and they were begging the trek to the capital city. Aelin had been dreading the moment when she’d have to meet him, yet felt strangely hopeful. She knew it wasn’t likely that she would have a loving relationship from an arranged marriage, though they would have to pretend in public. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lys’s question, “Are you planning on wearing the Amulet of Orynth?”

Aelin sighed. “Might as well. I have to represent my country somehow.”

Her friend peered into her Ashryver eyes, realizing what the Princess was troubled about instantly. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to nail this. This is  _ you _ we’re talking about. He’ll be groveling at your feet by the time you’re done with him.”

“Besides,” Elide interjected, “We’ll be there to help you. Aedion too. You’ve thought of everything, Aelin. It’ll all be fine. If he’s a Prince, he must have some court training. It will go smoothly, just like you want. You have the high ground here.”

The Princess shot her friends a grateful look. “Is everything ready for the plan then?” 

Lysandra grinned. The plan Aelin had cooked up  _ was  _ rather brilliant. They’d plotted for hours yesterday, coming up with the most subtle ways to make Whitethorn and his companions uncomfortable. If Orlon or Aelin’s parents found out about it, they’d be furious. But, Aelin hoped that they’d give her space to get to know him without interfering, so they’d never know how she’d acted. Her fiancé didn’t seem like the type to tattle on her, anyway.

“Oh, yes. It’s all ready. I’ve talked to Aedion, he doesn’t disapprove of any of it, and won’t tell my parents.” Indeed, her cousin wanted to be part of it, too, though he was stuck between wanting to meet his idols and intimidating the male Aelin was going to marry.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. A servant called through, “The King wants you to begin to get ready, Your Highness.”

Aelin swallowed thickly. “It’s almost time, then,” she said, “I don’t know why I’m so anxious. We’ve planned everything out, so why is this tearing me up inside?”

Her friends looked at her with sympathy, but didn’t say anything. Aelin tried for a small smile. “No. It’s going to be fine. He’ll be fine. This isn’t the end of the world,” she stated, mostly trying to convince herself. But, oh, it felt like it was.

\--------------------

Rowan woke to a torrent of water..

Spluttering, he sat up to see Fenrys standing over him with a bucket in his hand, a disgusting little smirk on his face. 

“Wake up, old man,” his younger companion declared, “I know you need the beauty sleep, but if we want to arrive in Orynth by noon, we have to get going.” Rowan pulled his lips back, exposing his fangs and snarling. He heard a soft chuckle from his left. Looking over, he saw his commander  _ smiling.  _ That only happened about once a century.

“He is right, you know. We have to get going, we said we’d be there by noon. If you want to sleep for a couple more hours and have to run all fifty miles to Orynth and be tired and gross for your future wife, be my guest. Just thought it would be easier this way,” he said nonchalantly. 

Rowan scowled. That seemed to be his default facial expression around these people. But, there was reason behind his choice. Lorcan was alway useful if he got into trouble, and could serve as he and Fenrys’ impulse control, while the latter was the comic relief, and though he was one of the most annoying people on his continent, Fenrys could hopefully defuse any situations with his humor, and his power was useful to have. 

But, if he was being honest with himself, Rowan wanted to stay here. He could live in the forest as a hawk forever. He didn’t have to follow Maeve’s every order, didn’t have to be stared at in Doranelle for his reputation, on this continent for being Fae, didn’t have to meet his fiancé. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about it. He hadn’t cared about what people thought of him for two hundred years, yet he wanted the approval of a foriegn Princess he’d never met. Even without knowing this girl, he felt… somewhat hopeful? No, that was wrong. He knew about this Princess. She was arrogant and a brat. He didn’t know why his brain was giving her the benefit of the doubt, when every story he’d heard said otherwise.

“Are you listening to me?” The annoyed voice of Fenrys cut through his worry. 

Jolting back into his body, Rowan snapped, “ _ What?” _

The wolf smirked. Rowan sighed. The exact reaction Fenrys wanted, and he’d delivered. This whole marriage thing was definitely getting to his head. From when he had first heard about it, he’d always been thinking, getting lost in the labyrinth of his mind. It had taken up every spare second he had, and though he didn’t have a choice, he still felt like he was betraying Lyria. 

While he had regrets about this, the Princess probably thought of it as one big game. Anger flashed through him. No, he didn’t care what this girl thought about him, because he despised her already. He would go through with this, partly because he had no choice, but also for the good of his country. Just because they would be married did  _ not  _ mean that he had to like her. They’d just pretend. Be civil, but could have their own opinions. 

But,  _ Gods,  _ he was dreading this already.

Collecting himself, Rowan stood up suddenly, and began packing up the camp. He noticed his companions looking at him strangely, he motioned for them to help him. 

Unsure of why he was in such a hurry, Fenrys asked, “What’s going on? Change your mind and want to see her earlier?”

Rolling his eyes at the younger Fae, Rowan scoffed and said, “You thought it appropriate to wake me in that way, you clearly wanted to get there early. So here’s your chance, Boyo. We’re running forty-nine miles. We’ll walk the last one to cool down.”

\--------------------

“Deep breaths, Aelin.”

Elide’s voice was calm and reassuring, through there was a tinge of nervousness in it as well. None of them knew what to expect. They didn’t know what their guests would want, how they would play their game, how they would treat their hosts. 

Walking out to the courtyard, then down to the gardens where they would meet the Fae, Aelin was seriously regretting her choice to go along with this. Maybe if she’d said something, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Getting married to an old, cranky bastard who was not her Sam. She felt like she was betraying him, even though he would have wanted her to move on, to try new things. She knew this was a good opportunity. It would be  _ very  _ helpful to have allies as powerful as Maeve. Just having three powerful Fae males at their disposal now was an enormous asset.

But Aelin still was dreading meeting her future husband.

Heeding her friend’s advice, the Princess slowed her breaths, thinking of puppies, chocolate, libraries, anything _ besides  _ the event to come. She walked slowly, taking in the beauty Terrasen had in abundance. The gorgeous mountains, rich forests, and clear blue skies. 

The Palace Gardens were one of her favorite places. It was filled with lush green plants, colorful flowers, and small trees. It was littered with wooden benches and fountains, making it one of the Princess’s chosen places to be alone, to finally relax. She walked behind her parents and uncle, Aedion staying by her side, as always. Lysandra and Elide behind her.

A wave of gratitude rushed over her for her friends. They were always there for her, they’d helped her so much in the few days she’d known about the marriage. While she’d known Aedion and Elide her whole life, Lysandra she’d met three years ago, and despite not starting off well, she’d become one of Aelin’s best friends. They’d helped each other through hard times, and they’d bonded over it. Now, she couldn’t imagine life without any of these people.

The Princess noticed her parents shooting her looks over their shoulders. They saw her observing them, and Evalin looked at her daughter with a question in her eyes. Aelin didn’t know what it was, but, considering they were her parents and she was getting married, she forced a smile, though it felt fake. Her mother seemed to realize that as well, and pity filled her eyes. Aelin quickly averted her gaze.

Pity was not what she wanted in this situation. She didn’t want everyone to feel bad for her. She was doing this for the good of her kingdom.

Swallowing thickly, Aelin looked at her cousin once, took a deep breath, and walked forward confidently. She could do this.

Aelin sped up her gait, plastered a smirk on her face, and went to meet her future husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Come visit me on Tumblr @abookishfreak


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this took a while, It was kinda hard to get this part right, but I think I did it in the end. As usual, kudos and comments make my day! Enjoy!

Rowan Whitethorn was  _ definitely _ not nervous.

Not at all. He was fine, everything was going to be fine. He’d survived three-hundred years of fighting and battles, but here he was, afraid to meet his soon-to-be fiancé. One might ask how he got into this situation. The mighty, immortal Prince was going to marry a Princess. The Princess of Terrasen, in fact, known for her beauty and skill with both magic and steel, but also for her fiery temper and difficulty. 

To say the least, Rowan was not excited.

Now, walking into the Palace Gardens, where he was to meet the royal family, he might have been feeling the smallest bit tense. He had a reputation to uphold. Rowan and his companions were acting on Maeve’s orders, and they would give the Terrasen Royals their impressions of her. But that was merely the beginning. He was being married off.  _ Rowan _ would be  _ married. _ It was all happening too fast. Once he met the Princess, it would be only a month and a half until the wedding. 

He would have a month and a half to get to know Aelin, and hope that everything didn’t turn to shit. It would be much harder than his relationships with females ever had been. He’d have to get her to tolerate him, and hope that they could become friends throughout the marriage. With Lyria, it had been easy. Natural. It was real, there was no acting required. Rowan seriously doubted it would be that way with the Heir of Terrasen.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Glancing back from where he was standing at the edge of the gardens, he saw Lorcan and Fenrys looking at him with sympathetic eyes. They knew how hard it would be on him. Lorcan had been there after Lyria, and Fenrys had heard about it. Sometimes, he thought the warriors were the only ones who understood him. They had both been bound to a dark Queen, and while Lorcan claimed absolute loyalty to her, everyone knew Fenrys hated it. He’d only done it to protect his brother. Connall, the one who leaped to fulfill Maeve’s every request, who praised her with every breath. His companion was aware, of course, but only wanted to save his twin from serving Maeve alone.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure she’s not  _ that _ bad,” Lorcan said. That was unusual for him. Normally, the dark Fae was Mr. Miserable, never saying anything positive, always the bearer of bad news. But, Rowan had known Salvaterre nearly his whole life. They were companions, brothers. They worked well together. And perhaps his Commander did have that talent, if only for people he considered friends. 

Rowan sighed. “Yes, I’m probably just overreacting. I just didn’t think it would be so…  _ soon. _ ”

His companions shared a look. Fenrys carefully replied, “I know. But, maybe it’ll be good to get away from Maeve for a while. We could all relax. Think of it as a holiday. No border disputes, no blood oath, no battles. Good things can come from this, as well. You just have to think positively.”

Rowan dragged a hand down his face. “Let’s just get this over with,” he groaned. Two nods. At the head of their little party, Rowan turned toward the entrance to the lush, green garden. Around one of the corners littered in the winding paths, the Royals would be waiting. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. 

There was no going back now.

\--------------------

The Gardens of Terrasen were a lot bigger than the ones in Doranelle. The City of Rivers was known for it’s ethereal beauty and magic, but Maeve had no interest in gardens or plants. Terrasen, however, had one of the largest collections of plants that Rowan had ever seen. Trees, flowers, grass, even fruit. It was also filled with wooden benches, fountains, and arches. 

Extravagant didn’t even begin to describe it.

As he walked down the stone paths, Rowan was furiously trying to think of anything but what lay at the end of the garden.  _ Who stood _ at the end of the garden. He was determined to block the meeting out of his mind, lest he shifted right then and there, flying back into the Oakwald. Lorcan and Fenrys picked up on this, of course, and did their best to give him space, but he knew his friends didn’t know how to help him in this situation.

With every step Rowan took, his mind screamed for him to go back. Every step closer to the Princess felt wrong. This woman he was supposed to marry, it wasn’t  _ her. _ It wasn’t his mate. Lyria was gone, yet here he was, engaged to someone else. But still, he traveled forward, forcing his legs to move. 

They could spot the castle now. Rowan focused on his breath, telling himself that he was fine, that Lyria would understand. They rounded the final corner. His pace did not falter. A cluster of people walked toward them. Rowan looked away. Fenrys shot him a grim smile. 

Rowan carefully lifted his eyes to see the group. He searched until he found who was most likely Aelin. She was standing near the back of the party, flanked by a golden-haired man and a petite woman with dark hair. A ghost leopard trailed behind her protectively, as if watching her back. 

Focusing on the Princess, he noticed her long golden hair, tan skin, and turquoise and gold eyes. Her dress was long and black, almost indecent for a Princess. The flames on the skirt certainly matched what Rowan had been told about her. Everything about her screamed,  _ power. _ She wore gold jewelry, rubies adorning the necklace and earrings. She was stunning. 

It just made him hate her more.

Approaching the King, the three Fae bowed low. Orlon nodded in appreciation. 

“Welcome, Prince. I’m glad you arrived safely. I hope your journey has been well?”

Rowan answered for them. His duty, he felt, as the one who would actually be joining the Court of Terrasen. “It has, Your Majesty, thank you. My Queen thanks you for your willingness to agree to this arrangement.”

“There’s no need for such formalities. This alliance will be as useful for us as it is for you,” Orlon stated.

Before he could say anything, a woman who he assumed was Evalin interjected, “I hope you three can learn to call Terrasen home. We are very pleased to have you.” Rowan immediately liked her. She had the look of a noble, yet her eyes were kind.

“If you’re ready, we can start to walk back to the castle now. I’ve prepared rooms for you. You can freshen up there before dinner,” Orlon offered, to which the Fae nodded. He was thankful for how kind they were being about the whole situation. Rowan appreciated the thoughtfulness that went into things. Evalin had seemed to know what was troubling him, and Orlon was right in giving him time to compose himself before the dinner. So far, the Terrasen Royals were far kinder than Fae Nobility and, though he hated to say it, Maeve. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

Until he saw Aelin. His eyes met with hers for half a second, but he could see through the faux smile she had painted on, felt the rage in her eyes buried deep inside him. No, she wasn’t happy about this. The girl was certainly an accomplished actress, he’d give her that. How could this be any better if the person he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with was like  _ that _ ? If she was unwilling to try, he wouldn’t either.

As they began to walk, he noticed the Princess shooting him hateful looks. Her companions didn't look too happy, either. The blonde man, whom he assumed was Aedion, was looking at him like he was the devil who stole her virtue. Of course her protector wouldn’t approve of this situation. Rowan had heard of her cousin’s loyalty to her, bloodsworn, he believed, which meant he wouldn’t be happy with something that made her upset. 

As he got closer to the Wolf of the North, however, he scented something on him. Something… familiar. Rowan was sure he’d never met him before, yet he felt  _ some _ kind of connection. It was… no. But, it was unmistakable. 

_ Gavriel. _

Looking at him, the resemblance was uncanny. The same tan skin, golden hair, muscular build. Rowan didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. Gavriel’s… This was Gavriel’s…  _ son. _ He glanced toward his companions. Lorcan and Fenrys didn’t seem to have noticed. Maybe they smelled  _ something,  _ but they hadn’t figured it out yet. He’d tell them later, make sure they didn’t blurt it out.

As he considered how  _ the hell _ he was going to tell Gavriel, Rowan felt a presence sidle up to him. He glanced over, and to his horror, it was Aelin, a wicked gleam in her eyes. How he dreaded this moment. Rowan swallowed and tried to look indifferent.

“Welcome to Terrasen, Prince,” she purred. Rowan noticed his companions falling back, giving them room to talk.  _ Traitors. _ Gods give him strength. “How have you liked the Kingdom so far?” 

“Your home is very beautiful, Your Highness,” he said, then cursed himself. That wasn’t what he meant to say. They needed ground rules for how this was going to work. Some guidelines for how to act, what should be real, when they had to pretend. Not small talk.

She let out an airy laugh. “As my uncle said, there is no need for formalities. You may address me as Aelin.” Rowan started to speak, but she wasn’t done. “As for the beauty of Terrasen, well, I think you’ll find  _ certain _ things even more beautiful.”

_ Gods, _ this girl was insufferable. He thought he heard Fenrys chuckle behind him. At least  _ they _ would get along well. But  _ him. _ How was he supposed to deal with her for an eternity? She was just a spoiled brat, arrogant and annoying. Grinding his teeth, Rowan stayed silent. 

Aelin smirked at his reply. “Cat got your tongue?”

Sighing, he replied, “It’s an honor to meet you, Aelin. Terrasen does possess much beauty, but nothing I haven’t seen in Doranelle.” Her eyes narrowed, and Rowan felt a sense of triumph. Silently, his gaze boring into hers, he told her,  _ You aren’t the best I’ve seen. _ It was a lie, of course. They both knew she was gorgeous. But something about getting under her nerves felt  _ amazing. _

Despite knowing that it wasn’t true, the Princess fumed. It seemed as if the mere  _ suggestion _ that she lacked the ethereal grace of the Fae unnerved her.  _ How very vain.  _ Rowan now knew what people meant when they talked of her temper. She was insufferable. In fact, most of the rumors he’d heard before making the journey were true. She had a foul mouth inside, yet beautiful on the outside. 

He took a moment to admire- no, not admire. Study. Yes,  _ study _ her. She was made of lean muscle, taller than most women, but lithe and curvy. She was built like a warrior, verifying the tales of her fighting in battles, knocking out armier with her flames. Indeed, she looked like a flame. With rich, golden skin and long, shimmering, aureate hair, she was a wildfire. The ring of gold in her eyes gave her a fierce look, the blue of her iris representing the sapphire flames she was famous for. Rowan’s gaze trailed to the flames on her skirt, showing the fire in her personality, up her elegant neck, and to her face. 

Then he noticed her ears weren’t pointed, no elongated canines flashed when she smiled. She was… human? From what he’d heard, Fae blood ran through her veins. The Ashryver line, mixed with power from Brannon and Mala, should have given her the qualities of the Fae. Yet, she appeared human. As he looked to her eyes, he stopped.

She was looking at him, a shit-eating grin on her face. 

Rowan quickly averted his eyes. Her smile only widened.

“Not too bright, is he?” she mused. Rowan barely refrained from snarling. This  _ girl _ dared to call him  _ dim?  _ He was three-hundred years old, for Gods’ sakes. He’d lived far longer, seen much more than she ever would, fought in wars before she, or her parents, were even born. She was truly testing his patience, but still he stayed quiet, staring down at the path. His hands curled into fists. “I thought someone of his standing would know better, yet men fail to impress me every time.”

At her words, Rowan’s eyes shot up, focusing on her. He looked down, only to see the ghost leopard that had trailed her now standing beside it’s master. Her words hadn’t been rhetorical. She… was  _ talking _ to it. When he focused his gaze back on her face, he saw her tilt her head playfully. Still looking at him, she said, “They never do any research, do they?”

WIthout giving him time to reply, without faltering, she produced a flash of light and shifted. Looking at her now, Rowan blinked once, twice, then couldn’t take his eyes away. If there was any doubt that she was the most beautiful female he had ever seen, it was gone now. In her Fae form, Aelin’s skin seemed brighter, her hair glowed, was richer, and her eyes transformed into a living flame. Rowan felt it get harder to breathe. Her presence was so much clearer,  _ demanded _ attention. There was no doubt about it, she was stunning.

Aelin let out a chuckle at his dumbstruck expression. He tore his gaze away from her, choosing to focus on the others in the party. The small, dark haired woman was smiling softly, as if she was afraid to let it get out of control. Aedion, however, sported a full-blown grin, his eyes shining. 

When he heard a raspy noise from his left, Rowan looked down. The ghost leopard, previously walking beside Aelin, had stopped. It seemed to be… laughing? The Princess’s smile grew. Rowan’s eyes widened as the feline began to grow, it’s fur being replaced with copper skin, it’s form growing human. Within seconds, a beautiful woman had replaced the cat, dressed in green silk. She had long brown hair, her body fuller than the other women. 

Rowan glanced behind him to his companions, seeing the bewilderment in their faces. Scenting the air, he could tell she was a shifter. A full-powered one, at that. She pranced over to Aelin, locking their arms and pulling her away. They traveled ahead of the others as the group shifted directions to head into the castle, leaving three very confused Fae behind. 

Rowan watched the three women with narrowed eyes, trailing them as he saw Aelin lean over to whisper something in her friends’ ears. The shifter choked, falling into laughter soon after. The other looked torn between giggling and scolding her friends. She hissed, though her eyes were amused, “Use your manners, Aelin!”

From in front of them, the Ashryver boy called, “You can’t use what you don’t have!”

  
The four of them burst into fits of laughter, leaving Rowan wondering how the  _ hell _ he was going to survive  _ one  _ dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Come visit me on Tumblr @abookishfreak


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Chapter 4! Sorry it took a while, I had a lot going on. For my birthday, I got A LOT of books, and I've kinda been binge-reading. So, I got The Folk of the Air Series, The Shatter Me Series, and A Court of Thorns and Roses, all of which I'm probably going to be inspired to write for at some point in the near future. I also re-watched a lot of Marvel movies, and have some ideas, so if you'd be interested, that'll be happening soon. ALSO! (last one, I promise) I have an idea for a Solangelo story, so... LOTS OF IDEAS!!! You get the point. Without further ado, CHAPTER FOUR!

Aelin Galathynius pranced back to her rooms, a giant grin on her face.

Judging by her fiancé’s face, the meeting had gone well. He’d looked thoroughly confused when she walked away from the group, careful not to look back, to seem indifferent. 

Rowan Whitethorn was not as she’d thought he’d be. To put it lightly, he was a lot more down to earth than someone of his standing had any right to be. He was far more handsome than she’d anticipated, causing her to freeze for a mere moment. With short silver hair that looked soft as feathers and piercing pine-green eyes, he looked like something out of a fairy tale.

Aelin now owed Lysandra five gold coins.

But despite his looks, there was something in Rowan’s eyes that seemed sad, lonely. To have lived so long, he must have seen things, lost things, that would haunt his dreams at night. Most people would consider that long a life as a curse, rather than a blessing. Honestly, Aelin didn’t know why mortals wished for immortality. After all, what’s the point in living if you feel like  _ that. _

He seemed to get under the Princess’s skin so easily, and Aelin quickly found herself becoming annoyed with him.

She didn’t like him.

Didn’t like how he acted. How he spoke. How he moved. But Aelin knew why. She saw those eyes every day in the mirror, loathed that feeling of emptiness, the same one that reminded her so much of herself. The kind of pain that came from loss, from utter hopelessness. 

Aelin didn’t know how she would look into those eyes for the rest of her life, be reminded of what she couldn’t have every day, because of him.

Shaking out of her daze, Aelin realized she’d reached her rooms, and was now standing at the door. She wondered how long she had been there, as the guards’ expressions were curious, looking at her yet trying to pretend that they weren’t looking at her. Clearing her throat, Aelin opened the door and stepped inside her large quarters.

She had one of the biggest suites in the palace, with a bedroom and attached bathing room, a dining room, a lounge, and a personal library, complete with everything from soft chairs to a billiard table to a grand piano. The walls were a soft cream, accented by Terrasen’s royal colors. Tablecloths, blankets, pillows, and plush furniture were all in shades of green, and small silver trinkets adorned the walls and shelves.

Aelin shuffled into her room, quickly stripping off her finery, laying the dress on her bed and piling jewels on the dresser. Pulling on a long, flowing shirt and loose pants, she hopped out the door and collapsed into one of the chairs in the library, sinking down an absurd amount. She was comfortable, though, in her little refuge. She sighed and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. 

She really hated that corset.

Aelin supposed the dinner would go well, after all,  _ how could it get worse? _ She really wasn’t looking forward to it. While the Princess definitely loved fancy events and interacting with people, she, like everyone, reached her limit.

Though, this limit might have been due to one Rowan Whitethorn, not her exhaustion.

Humming, Aelin picked up her book and began to read. She would spend what little time she had before she had to get ready tuning out the world.

\--------------------

Her head clearer than before, the Princess stalked down the corridor to the Grand Hall, fashionably late, as always.

Hoping to make an impression, Aelin had gone all out for this. Wearing a shimmering, dark red dress, she knew she looked stunning. It was an evening dress, more so than the one she’d worn earlier. It hugged her form tightly, highlighting her curves, and the neckline dipped low, showing a lot of cleavage. The dress was embroidered with threads of gold and danced in the light when she spun. Aelin wore golden jewelry with rubies, matching her dress in the best ways.

The outfit radiated confidence.

Now she just had to fake it until she made it.

Aelin continued down the halls, lost in thought, until she reached the great wooden doors that led to the meeting place. She took a deep breath, then nodded to the guards posted outside, a signal to open the gateway to her family. When they did, she strode forward, head held high, and took in the scene.

Her Uncle was at the head of the table, being the King, her parents and Darrow in the seats to the side of him. She spotted Aedion, Lysandra, and Elide sitting clustered together, the Prince’s companions stationed near them. She found the only empty seat left, and started towards it. Then he stopped.

The place they had put her, the only one that could possibly be her’s, was directly next to Rowan Whitethorn.

_ Shit. _

Shooting smiles to the Terrasen Royals, she made her way to her seat. The one person that might make this dinner more difficult for her was the same person that she slid in next to, keeping her face carefully neutral. Locking eyes with Elide, Aelin watched the other woman give her a sympathetic smile. It looked more like a grimace, actually. At least Aedion was next to her.

Sneaking a glance at her fiancé, she was relieved that he looked just as, if not more, pissed off about the seating arrangements. He was looking straight ahead refusing to acknowledge her. His hand was clearly clenched in a fist under the table, and the muscles in his jaw were working. 

Aelin felt an elbow nudge her ribs, and twisted her head to look at her cousin, the owner of said elbow. He was grinning at her, a sly look in his eyes. She quickly flushed at being caught, hoping the lighting would disguise it. When she glared at Aedion, he made a small motion with his head, indicating her to gaze around.

Most of the people in the room were looking at her, some curious, some grinning, and some (Darrow) looking at her with annoyance.

Orlon cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here,” he started, sending a quick glance at Aelin, who smiled sheepishly, “I think we can get started. To Aelin and Rowan, a union that will hopefully bring peace and security to both Terrasen and Doranelle.”

The rest of the room raised their glasses in response, and the two named stared at the table. Before the food could be brought out, Aelin picked up her wine, quickly draining the glass. She called for more, ignoring the sigh from Elide, smirk from Lysandra, and Aedion’s discreet eye roll. Looking at the Fae joining them, she noticed that one of them was grinning. The blonde one,  _ Fenrys, _ Aelin decided that she liked him.

More than Mr. Grumpy, at least.

The first course was brought out, a dark green salad that was probably really healthy, yet tasted amazing. Aelin didn’t know how they made  _ leaves _ taste good, but one thing was clear: she needed to give the chefs a raise.

As they all dug in, Aelin contemplated what to do about the giant pain in the ass sitting next to her. Should she continue to ignore him? Or would that be considered rude? But, on the other hand, Aelin  _ really _ didn’t want to talk to him. If he hasn’t made any attempt by now, why should she? But, it would be nice to get over this awkwardness and come to an agreement.

Slowly, hesitantly, she moved her arm over until her forearm touched Rowan’s lightly. His eyes shot to hers immediately, narrowing at her. Aelin slowly turned her head to face him, trying to look unconcerned. She was thankful for the noise of people talking, and hoped it would drown out whatever she said to him. Aelin noticed her friends giving her strange looks, and tried to ignore it.

“I think we should start over,” she began cautiously, cerulean eyes meeting green ones, “We both probably didn’t handle that as we should have, I think it would be best if we could try to come to an understanding here.” Aelin searched his face for some sign of confirmation, then sighed in relief when she saw him nod.

“Okay,” Rowan started, “I know this situation isn’t ideal for either of us, but maybe there’s a way to make the best of it.”

Aelin blinked. She hadn’t thought it would be that easy. Perhaps she’d misjudged this Prince, maybe they could make something work. “I’m not proposing we be in love, but maybe just give them a show. I know this would definitely raise the spirits of my people, and I’m thinking it’s the same for you. I care about my Kingdom, and I think you do too. The reason I didn’t protest this as much as I should have was for the good of Terrasen. I think there is a way that we can both benefit from this, if only for our homes.”

Rowan gave a slow nod. “That sounds fair. If we can just be civil, it might work out. Who knows, maybe something might click. If not, that’s fine, we can pretend.”

Aelin felt her lips curve into a small smile. “Alright,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake, and Rowan obliged. “No hard feelings. I’m Aelin Galathynius, stuck-up brat.”

Rowan chuckled, replying, “Rowan Whitethorn, arrogant know-it-all.”

Aelin grinned, and thought that maybe,  _ just maybe _ , whatever they had would work out.

\--------------------

By the time dessert came, Aelin was itching to leave. She wanted to get out of there, to have people stop congratulating her for her marriage, when she didn’t want that at all. But her conversation with Rowan  _ had  _ helped, and maybe they had some kind of understanding now, maybe they wouldn’t have to pretend. When they weren’t pissing each other off, he was quite agreeable, and she saw more of the thoughtful, funny side of him. 

He wasn’t  _ that _ bad.

Aelin glanced around the room, focusing on Lysandra, who was grinning at her and subtly motioning towards Whitethorn, who was conversing with Aelin’s father.

He looked uncomfortable at the attention, he was fiddling with the tablecloth, eyes darting around the room. Aelin supposed he just wasn’t used to court life, Doranelle seemed a lot more laid back in terms of court, and she thought he was only a Prince in name, not royal blood. 

Aelin came back to the conversation at hand and heard her father say, “-want you to feel at home here. I hope you can trust us in this situation. Your experience would be very much appreciated, Prince.”

Rowan nodded with uncertainty, and Aelin decided she should step in.

“I was wondering if we could leave now,” she said, smiling at her parents. She saw Rowan’s grateful look, and continued. “I’m so tired from the day, and I’d like the chance to get to know my  _ fiancé _ better.”

Evalin nodded, and beamed at her daughter, clearly happy about Aelin’s willingness to try with this arrangement. Grinning, Aelin scooted back her chair and motioned for Rowan to follow her. He did, begrudgingly, and she thought she saw him shoot a look at his friends for help, which was ignored. Lysandra smirked at Aelin, and Aedion narrowed his eyes. She rolled hers in turn, patting him on the shoulder as she led Rowan out of the large room and into the hall.

They walked in silence for a while, but it wasn’t awkward. 

It was peaceful, until Aelin decided to ruin the quiet.

“So, how are you liking my home, Prince?”

Rowan looked at her, then sighed. “It is very beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. The forests, the mountains. We don’t have that in Doranelle. It’s there, but not quite the same, not as natural. I can’t wait to fly here,” he admitted.

Aelin blinked, then said, “Oh, right, you’re a buzzard. I forgot.” Rowan snarled, but the Princess continued, this time with more sincerity. “What’s it like to fly? I’ve always wondered, but I don’t think I ever will find out.”

“It’s like no other feeling. There’s something magical about feeling the wind, about seeing everything there is to see. I can’t put it in words.”

Aelin hummed, taking in what he just said. After that, it was quiet, just the sound of soft footsteps in the corridor.

“It seems like this is all happening so quickly.” Rowan’s voice echoed quietly, and only Aelin’s Fae hearing let her pick it up. It’s true. After all, Aelin had only known about the marriage for a few days, and here she was with her husband-to-be. The wedding was soon too, much too soon. But there was no way around it. Aelin would do what it took to help her people.

However, she only shrugged it off, hiding the pain with confidence, as she always did. “It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do. No battles yet, no taxation, no lovers waiting at home.” As much as it hurt her to say it, Aelin forced out the last part. She wasn’t about to show weakness to this man, she was going to breeze through the wedding, to pretend that nothing was wrong.

Rowan, however, looked as though he’d been hit.

His face had gone cold, eyes frosty and glazed as he stared into nothing. Aelin noticed his hands curling into fists, the muscles in his jaw working as he stood stock-still. Her mouth curled into a smirk. So there  _ was _ a lover. She wondered who it was, how much he cared for them, and why his Queen sent him here. Surprisingly, Aelin felt a small pang of jealousy. She shoved it down. This wasn’t real, he could feel however he wanted.

Of course, Aelin  _ had _ to tease him. Oh, he would never live it down. “What, who are they? Were they upset at you leaving?” His jaw worked tirelessly, and she saw all signs of patience slowly disappearing. Her grin grew. 

Rowan’s gaze hardened as he glared at her, the rage evident in his eyes. “You don’t know anything about me. I was right before. You’re just a stuck-up bitch. You didn’t have to go there, but apparently you did it anyway, just for fun. I thought someone with such a reputation would be more sensible.”

The Princess flinched back. As much as she told herself to let it go, the words stung. Aelin had never had a problem with caring what people thought, but with Rowan, it was so much more. Instead of getting angry, her body decided to shut down. Her eyes became cold, her posture stiff, her expression guarded. Turning on her heel, 

Aelin stalked away from him, back towards her rooms, refusing to look back. 

\--------------------

Rowan groaned, laying on the luxurious bed he’d been given.

The suite was larger than he’d expected, much larger than those in Doranelle. Everything was too fancy, and looked far too expensive. To any other, it would have been very comfortable, would have been considered a gift, but to Rowan, it only served as a discomfort. He was used to small rooms, poor conditions, warrior-squalor. Definitely not lush palaces.

Though, the source of his discomfort might not have been the room, but the Princess herself.

What Aelin had said hit a little too close to home, the words that slipped off her tongue felt like poison in his mind. He’d frozen, of course, when she’d said that, thoughts immediately going to Lyria. How he’d lost her, how he’d disappointed her, how he’d  _ failed _ her. It was his fault she was dead, his fault their child was dead. If Rowan hadn’t been so eager, so quick to prove himself, he could have saved her.

_ But he didn’t. _

Despite the Princess’s hard words, the rational part of himself knew she didn’t know what had happened, what she had said. And Rowan had been quick to retort, hadn’t thought about what he was saying.

_ She hadn’t deserved that. _

But there was something in her eyes, a kind of pain he saw every day. Rowan noticed how she brushed off the words, making it seem too easy, too real, to be true. He saw what happened after he’d spoken, how Aelin shut down, how her guard went up, how the walls that had been slowly crumbling throughout the evening were built in seconds.

It was the kind of pain that came from loss, the kind of pain he was all too familiar with. Rowan knew why he hadn’t liked her at first, why he’d thought the worst instinctively.

  
_ Because he saw her in himself. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've had some stuff going on that makes it hard to do anything other than listen to blaring music and read 100k fanfics :) I'm going to try to update more frequently because my house is being remodeled and I have nothing else to do, and if anyone is reading my other story, I'm going to update that soon, I've put it off for too long. So, if you're still here, thanks for your patience!

As Rowan walked down the luxurious halls of the Terrasen Castle, he groaned at his predicament.

The events of the previous night had proved to come back and kick his ass. He knew that he should apologize, but his stubbornness prevented it. Despite what Aelin had said, Rowan should have handled it better. He knew that the Princess hadn’t realized what she was saying, hadn’t known how it would affect him. Rowan should have been more prepared for talking to her. After all, he knew he’d have to tell her about Lyria some time.

But he didn’t want to.

Didn’t want to what, he didn’t know. Didn’t want to tell her about Lyria. Didn’t want to risk being weak. Didn’t want to be seen as fragile. Rowan knew he kept too much inside. Ever since his wife’s death, he’d built walls that didn’t come down. He stopped feeling, stopped letting himself be vulnerable. He locked everyone out of his heart, made sure he wouldn’t be taken by surprise.

But this girl, this Princess, had slipped past his defenses. He’d made an agreement with her, only to be shut down by a couple words. Whatever they’d had, whatever agreement they’d come to, he was sure it was gone now. Rowan wished he’d had a chance to stop the words that came out of his mouth, or at least go after her. It was clear that his comment had stung, that Aelin had been offended. Rowan would have gone back in a heartbeat, would have apologized, had he any goddamn idea where he was.

That’s right. Rowan Whitethorn, immortal Fae Warrior, was lost. He paced angrily, glaring at the stone walls. In Doranelle, everything was a lot… smaller. It was nice, of course, but it lacked the  _ grandness _ of Terrasen. But it wasn’t like the North was flaunting it’s wealth. Everything just seemed to work well together. The castle was decorated in Terrasen’s royal colors, the green and silver echoing pleasantly with the land. 

Rowan had already tried to find his way to the Great Hall, but he couldn’t find anyone to ask. The layout of the castle was… much harder to navigate than his home. Some people say that if you turn the same direction every time in a maze, you’ll eventually find the way out. 

_ He just wished it worked in a castle. _

_ However, _ he mused,  _ the halls of Terrasen’s palace were very much a labyrinth.  _ Rowan decided to try to find a stairwell, possibly just keep going down until he found large double doors.

He’d already tried that, but it was something.

As he stalked down the stone corridors, Rowan tried to keep his mind blank. Thinking of Lyria and the Princess now wouldn’t help him. Instead of letting his mind wander, he focused on cool stone against his hand, the dim lighting that created intricate shadows. Rowan passed many doors, but didn’t dare look in. The only thing he remembered about the location of the Great Hall was that it was on one of the lower floors, and that there were two large, carved doors. 

He didn’t see them anywhere.

Once Rowan had gone down one too many hallway without finding stairs, he decided that having a large castle was overrated. There was plenty of space, but it was _ so easy _ to get lost.

As he let his feet take him along, Rowan’s thoughts drifted. What would he say to Aelin? Would she even be at breakfast? Would she have told her friends about what happened? Slowly, dread creeped up on him. He didn’t know the Princess. She could easily have spun the story to get him in trouble with the Royals. If Maeve heard about this… incident, she would surely punish him. They needed this alliance, and his Queen was  _ very _ interested in the Princess.

His mind raced, thinking of all the horrible possibilities of this arrangement, ranging from mild awkwardness to being punished by Maeve. Rowan knew he couldn't mess this up. Right then, he resolved to apologize to Aelin the next time he saw her. He would say that he overreacted, that the words were a mistake, and hope that she accepted it.

His first day in Terrasen, and he’d  _ already _ messed up.

Before he knew it, Rowan had reached a set of large, wooden doors with guards stationed outside them. He recognized them as the same doors he’d used the night before, the ones that led to the Great Hall. He shook himself out of his daze, banishing the negative thoughts to some deep part of his brain. They would be of no use right now.

Rowan nodded to the guards on either side of the doors, hoping they would recognize him. He received two bows in return, and they moved to open the doors. Though he would never admit it, Rowan was slightly unnerved by the signs of respect. In Doranelle, they didn’t really respect him. Feared him, sure, but he wasn’t used to all the bowing and groveling. He shifted slightly as the large doors were pulled open, revealing the scene inside.

The large, extravagant table was much less filled then it had been last night, most of the lords and courtiers now absent. The royal family were sitting in mostly the same spots, and he noticed a seat that had been left open next to Lorcan and Fenrys. Next to Aelin. The people in the room turned to look at him, Orlon sending him a kind smile.

Aelin didn’t so much as glance at him.

The Princess was sitting with her cousin, the shifter, and the dark-haired woman, chatting and laughing, keeping her gaze far away from him. Rowan felt a touch of hurt that she didn’t even acknowledge him, but he supposed he deserved it. He  _ had _ been extremely rude to her, but this just proved that he needed to make up for it, and  _ fast. _

Rowan launched into motion when he realized that the rest of the room was still looking at him as he stood there, transfixed by the Firebringer. His legs moved, pushing him forward, towards the table. Before sitting down in his place, Rowan dipped his head to the King, who nodded in return. He quickly sat down, shooting a look at the woman next to him. 

Rowan’s eyes met hers for a second, before Aelin looked away, glaring down at the plate in front of her. His gaze lingered on the Princess for a second, before drifting over to his companions. His room was next to theirs, yet the Fae hadn’t bothered to wait for him, instead leaving him to brave the maze of the castle alone. As if sensing his thoughts, Fenrys sent Rowan a sheepish smile. Lorcan didn’t react. He was  _ far _ too busy staring at the dark-haired woman talking to Aelin.

Slowly, the noise returned to the room, gentle chatter echoing off the walls. Rowan started to serve himself from the buffet-style meal, sending quick glances towards the Princess. She was still talking to her friends, successfully ignoring him. However, he didn’t see any of her companions looking at him strangely, which meant she probably hadn’t told them what had transpired the previous night. It might not be as awkward then, if they held no grudge against him now.

Rowan glanced at Aelin out of the corner of his eye. She was still talking amiably with her companions, still kept her face tilted away from his side of the table. Carefully, Rowan reached out with his arm, moving it slightly until it touched her’s. She jerked away at the contact, tucking her elbow into her body. She faltered in the middle of her scentace, her gaze going icy for a moment, then returning to normal.

Honestly, Rowan would have felt better if she’d hit him with her arm. That seemed more in character, more like the version of Aelin he’d seen last night, the one from all the stories he’d heard. This reaction seemed so… distant. So _sad_.

Just then, it dawned on him. The events of the previous night might have ended any connection they had. She might not care about his apology, might not forgive him. The whole alliance would be put to waste, all she had to do was tell her Uncle. They might not be able to pretend, any semblance of reality might be gone in their upcoming relationship.

Rowan noticed Fenrys looking at him with pity, and realized that his friend had seen the entire thing. For once, the younger Fae wasn’t making jokes or teasing Rowan, but acting like he understood what had happened. It occurred to him that one of his companions might have heard their conversation, or at least guessed that something was wrong. He saw Fenrys’s eyes flicking from him to Aelin, who had stopped talking with her friends, now just sitting there, lost in thought. 

Rowan took a deep breath and gathered himself. “Look, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” she said, voice cold. Aelin didn’t look up from the table, just let the harsh words spill out. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone there.”

Rowan blinked, the only sign of his surprise. Judging by her tone, Aelin was not fine. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, instead choosing to keep her gaze fixed on the table. Her expression was hard, her jaw twitching. She wasn’t okay with what had happened, that was evident. But Rowan hadn’t expected her to apologize, even if half-hearted. His intention had been to end the awkwardness between them, to take responsibility for what he’d said. That was still going to happen, Rowan couldn’t stand the cold treatment or harsh voices.

“What I said was wrong. I didn’t mean it, and-”

“I said, it’s fine!” The Princess's voice cut him off again, and Rowan quickly snapped his mouth shut. She was impossibly stubborn, Rowan couldn’t tell if it was this particular situation or if it was just in general that the Princess refused to be wrong. 

She turned away from Rowan, dismissal clear in her eyes. The Prince just sat there, shocked. Rowan didn’t move, didn’t stop staring at Aelin. He saw Fenrys looking between the two anxiously, as if watching a fast-paced game. Other than the golden-haired Fae, none of the others at the table seemed to notice anything. Aelin’s friends were still locked in conversation, Lorcan was still staring at the dark-haired beauty, the elder royals seemingly leaving them to their own devices.

Rowan’s gaze was still fixed on the Princess. She was still tilted away from him, listening intently to the conversation her friends were having. Rowan wanted to say something, to somehow erase what had happened the previous night. He opened his mouth, preparing to speak the apologies that were swirling around his mind, but as if sensing that, Aelin turned in her chair, towards him.

For a second, Rowan hoped. He felt his heart rise up in his chest, felt the excitement that brushed him. Aelin looked at him, a smile forming on her face. It looked as authentic as possible, she hadn’t faked it for impressions. Rowan wondered if it was some kind of act, or if she was ready to listen to him now.

At her words, his day brightened, the undeserved kindness that came out of that foul, beautiful mouth sent his heart racing.

“Would you like to come for a walk with me later? I know something you might like to see.”

Rowan pondered her words, the change in tone leaving him baffled. Maybe she had changed her mind? Maybe this could be his opportunity to apologize, to clean the slate and start over. Again. The shift in her manner was huge, and Rowan didn’t know how it had happened. Half of him didn’t believe it was true. 

But he was going to take the opportunity.

Rowan opened his mouth to answer her, started to tell her that it would be great, that he was looking forward to it, when another voice cut into the beginning of his words.

“It would be my pleasure, milady.”

Rowan started, his gaze shooting to behind him, where the reply had come from. The sounds of the world were drowned out by the incessant humming in his ears. He vaguely remembered seeing Fenrys smiling over him, to Aelin. He aimed an apologetic look at Rowan, his grin faltering as he met the other man’s eyes. Rowan’s head whipped around to the Princess, noticing for the first time how her eyes weren’t fixed on him, but over his shoulder, directed at his friend. Judging by the little smirk on her face as she looked at him, Aelin saw exactly how he’d jumped to answer her, how he’d assumed that she was talking to him. 

_ Not him. _

_ Not him. _

_ Not him. _

Her smug expression remained as she said, “Great. I’ll meet you in the courtyard at sunset?”

Fenrys nodded eagerly, his face still showing signs of the guilt he felt. Rowan tuned them out as Aelin continued to talk to Fenrys. He was sufficiently embarrassed for today. At least no others had seen the exchange. With a quick glance around the room, he confirmed the thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Rowan stared at the table, doing his best to ignore the cheerful conversation going on practically over his head. He silently scolded himself for thinking she was talking to him. Any person with some sense would have noticed that the change was too drastic, Rowan should have expected it. He didn’t really know what he’d been hoping for, why he’d gotten so excited by her invitation. 

It really wasn’t like him.

Rowan kept his head down for the rest of the meal, and if anyone noticed his behavior, they didn’t comment. He tried to keep his face neutral, glancing around the room every so often. He picked at his food, ( _ so _ much nicer than he was used to) and fidgeted in his chair. Thankfully, nobody noticed his obvious discomfort, aside from Fenrys who’s eyes still flicked to Rowan from time to time.

When Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius stood, announcing that they had to leave for a meeting, Rowan visibly relaxed. This meant that he could leave soon as well. As more people started to leave, he got up hesitantly, walking out when no one reacted. 

He stalked down the halls, this time more confidently, until he reached his room.

_ Fool. _

He was an idiot. Why did Rowan care so much about what this Princess thought? Why couldn’t he resolve to stay mad at her? Why did he want to strangle Fenrys? Before he knew it, Rowan was back at his rooms. He quickly went inside, grabbing more of his weapons. He walked through the door, continuing down the halls as he let himself drift, lost in thought.

\--------------------

Aelin pranced down the halls, a smirk on her face.

She was looking forward to showing Fenrys the sunset over the mountain. It was one of the things visitors came to see. The beautiful reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, and blues that decorated the sky were a sight she would never tire of. Watching the sun sink down over the mountains, illuminating the forest, gave Aelin a feeling of peace, watching nature in action always calmed her. Many had said the fiery colors were similar to her flames. They brought light, the bright, vibrant colors were terrifying, but beautiful. Aelin always felt connected to her land when watching the sunset.

While she was still upset about the events of the previous night, it certainly was amusing to see the Prince’s face. She’d done it partially to gauge his reaction, to embarrass him, but Aelin also felt drawn to Fenrys. They seemed so similar, and from the conversation they’d had in the Great Hall, they got on brilliantly. He was funny and clever, didn’t take things too seriously. That was what had prompted Aelin to invite him to see the sunset with her. She wanted to talk with someone new, but someone who could have fun, and didn’t feel the need to question her about the upcoming wedding.

She skipped out of the main doors, having changed into a tunic and pants, and onto the cobblestone, a small grin on her face. She saw the golden Fae leaning against a tree, arms crossed. When he spotted her, his mouth widened into a smile, and Aelin felt hers grow in response. Fenrys pushed off the tree, bowing to her and kissing her hand.

“Princess.”

Aelin snatched her hand away, snickering. She looped her arm around Fenrys’s, pulling him away into the gardens. He chuckled and followed her, both of them content to enjoy the companionship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Come visit me on Tumblr @abookishfreak

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come visit me on Tumblr @abookishfreak


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